


Rescue Me (Destiel)

by A_A_Dolan



Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Comfort, Drama, Family, Friendship, Gay, M/M, Rape, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_A_Dolan/pseuds/A_A_Dolan
Summary: After the unusual death of Mary Winchester, John Winchester suffers a major mental and emotional breakdown in results of him becoming an abusive alcoholic towards his two sons, Dean and Sam.As the years pass and the boys grow older, John’s drinking becomes out of control and takes a sudden turn for the worse when Dean decides to take all the bullying and beatings to protect Sam...then one day, Dean decides to run away and never look back, leaving his younger brother behind in the care of their mentally unstable and abusive father.Dean Winchester eventually returns home to reconnect with Sam, meets a stranger during his return home by the name of Castiel. Little does Dean know that Cas would change his life, forever.
Relationships: Castiel - Relationship, Dean Winchester - Relationship, Destiel
Kudos: 10





	1. Fire On The Ceiling

Things changed when Mary died. The way John found her...her body stuck on the ceiling...the ceiling. Then she bursted into flames...John watched the impossible happen right in front of his very eyes. Sam cried inside of his crib as this was going on and John had almost completely forgotten. He was in so much shock that he was frozen at the sight of his wife burning on the ceiling of Sam's nursery in their home.

"...Mary..." Was all John was able to mutter out, his eyes never leaving the unforgettable sight. Sam continued to weep inside of his crib, John finally snapped back into reality and quickly scooped his infant son from his crib—holding his small and fragile body close against his chest as his eyes reverted back to his wife, Mary, burning on the ceiling...her bright and lifeless blue eyes staring at him...John whimpered out softly as his eyes teared up; his own vision blurring before his own tears escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks.

John couldn't look at his wife any longer—not any longer, not like that. He looked away, sealed his eyes shut, and paced himself out of the nursery while still holding Sam close against his chest.

Once he was out of the nursery, John quickly made his way over Dean's bedroom. John quickly opened the door and paced over to Dean's bed, where his four year old son slumbered peacefully.

"Dean, wake up—" John whispered harshly as he freed one hand while the other continued holding his other infant son close against him. Dean's sleepy eyes shot open as he let out soft and sleepy noises.

"Mmm—hmm...?"

"Dean, you've got to get up—c'mon..." John didn't hesitate to slide his hand underneath Dean's back, helping him sit up in his bed, quickly scooping him up; now holding both his sons in his arms as he paced his way out of Dean's bedroom, down the hall, down the stairs...Dean noticed the bright and burning flames coming from Sam's nursery.

"Daddy...? I see fire in Sam's room; it's on the ceiling!" Dean exclaimed as clung onto his father, his eyes gazing over at them—watching the, burn.

"Shut your eyes Dean, shut them." John demanded as he continued pacing his way down the stairs and headed straight for the front door, swinging it open, he stepped out with both Dean and Sam in his arms. Without looking back, John paced over towards his car; a black and classic modeled 1967 Chevy Impala. He placed Dean in the passenger seat, buckled him in, and carefully placed Sam in Dean's lap—demanding his young son to hold onto his baby brother before sitting himself into the drivers seat, strapping himself in and starting the car with the car keys he grabbed from the counter by the front door before heading out of the house.

John didn't dare look at the home he and Mary lived in...he didn't dare look back at the home where they built their lives and family. He just drove off down the road in into the darkness, out of the neighborhood and out of town...John's eyes were completely focused on the road and didn't even bother to check on Dean or Sam. Dean was crying and he kept asking his father numerous questions; one after another, he just wouldn't stop...and baby Sam wouldn't stop weeping in his older brother's arms. He screamed, he fussed, he whined...Sam just wouldn't stop crying.

"Stop crying, Dean." John finally spoke, his eyes never leaving the dark road ahead of him as he continued driving—practically speeding the car.

"Daddy, what happened? Where's mommy? What happened to mommy? I wanna go home!" Dean wouldn't stop talking...he wouldn't stop crying, fussing, and asking questions. John's hands gripped onto the steering wheel of his car while the cries of both his young sons filled car—making his ears ring and his blood boil as he was quickly losing his patience.

"Stop crying." John spoke calmly but firmly, once more. Sam kept crying and Dean kept repeating the same questions he already asked John, over and over.

"Daddy, where's mommy!? I want mommy!" Dean whined out once more as more tears spilled down his soaked and rosy cheeks.

"SHUT UP!" John hollered at Dean, his eyes breaking contact from the road for a brief moment...his heart was racing, his face was burning hot, and his eyes were red, puffy, and irritated as more of his tears escaped them and ran down his face...dripping off his chin.

Dean looked startled as he quickly hushed up and pressed his back against the black, leather car seat. Sam continued sobbing in Dean's arms and John pressed his foot against the gas pedal; speeding the car now.

"YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE MOMMY IS!? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER!? SHE'S DEAD, DEAN! MOMMY IS DEAD!" He yelled at his son, again. Dean began to sob softly as his bottom lip pouted and twitched...his small body trembled as he let out soft sniffles and whimpers. Sam continued to cry, scream, and fuss as he kicked his little arms and legs around in Dean's arms.

"AND SHUT SAM UP, NOW! SHUT HIM UP!" John hollered at Dean once more as he roughly squeezed onto the steering wheel again while still speeding. Dean sobbed in the passenger seat as he clung onto his baby brother, hoping he'd be able to calm him down...he wouldn't stop crying and John was on the verge of a mental breakdown. Finally John realized how fast he was driving and his behavior towards his own children...feeling immediate guilt hit him in the gut like a hard blow to the stomach, John felt queasy and lightheaded as he roughly stomped his foot against the car breaks...making the car screech loudly down the empty and pitch black road—letting out a loud, monstrous, ear ringing scream as the car tires continued to screech...leaving tire marks against the black concrete; burning rubber; thick smoke coming from the tires before the classic vehicle finally came to a screeching halt...the only sounds were of Dean and Sam weeping in the passenger side of the car.

John slammed his balled up fists against the steering wheel, honking the car horn several times while doing so, and letting out loud growls, grunts, and occasional swear words as he let out loud and sharp, breathy gasps...more hot and salty tears spilled down his tear soaked face, and even snot ran down his nose before he quickly unbuckled himself out of the drivers seat and stepped out of the car...John was hyperventilating and he felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest at any given second...he paced several steps down the road, standing in front of the car...John leaned forward and proceeded by coughing violently and heaving...managing to spew out chunky mouthfuls of vomit.

He felt more hot bile rising in the back of his throat as he tried to fight back the strong urge to puke again, but he wasn't successful at doing so. After he finished hurling, John dropped to his knees against the hard, black concrete...he breathed hard and heavily as more tears spilled down his sweaty face, gasping as he sealed his eyes shut—balling his hands into tight fists, John then threw a hard blow against the road.

Dean watched from the passenger seat in his father's car, holding Sam in his arms still while still crying, himself. He didn't hear John scream, but he could see him yelling to the pitch black sky...he watched him throw more punches against the street, over and over until the skin on his knuckles broke; blood quickly gushing out of the fresh wounds...the burning and stinging pain rose in both John's hands but he didn't care. All he could think about was his beloved Mary; his beautiful wife...the mother of his children...the love of his life.

Mary was dead. John watched her die...die in such an odd and unusual way...he couldn't explain it, couldn't understand it...he didn't want to. He didn't care. After John overcame his mental breakdown in the empty street, he slowly turned his head to gaze over at his car.

He immediately noticed Dean staring at him through the clear windshield...tears in his eyes and a frightened look resting on his angelic face...John sighed out softly as his injured, bloody, and throbbing hands ached. He sniffled softly as more of his own tears streamed down his face, slowly standing himself back onto his two feet...John made his way back over to the car; grabbing onto the car door handle, swinging the door open and climbing inside the drivers seat, John slammed the door—the loud slamming of the car door made Dean jump and baby Sam fuss and whine in his arms...he wasn't crying as much anymore, but he was still distraught.

"Climb in the backseat...you and Sam need sleep. I'll find us somewhere to stay...but it's time for bed." John spoke softly. His throat was raw and his voice was hoarse from all the screaming...he wouldn't look at his sons. Dean remained quiet in the passenger seat, holding his infant brother close against him.

"Dean...?" He felt himself tense up when his father called out his name, still avoiding eye contact with him. Dean didn't say a word but instead stared over at him.

"Go to bed." Was all John demanded with his hoarse and exhausted sounding voice. Dean remained quiet still as he did as he was told and unbuckled himself out of the passenger side, carefully holding Sam in his grip while lightly squeezing onto him so he wouldn't slip out of his arms.

Dean slowly climbed to the backseats of the Impala—gently lying the baby down first, tucking him into his baby blanket to keep him warm, Dean made sure his brother was comfortable and snug before lying himself down beside him, wrapping an arm around him and held him close.

John placed both burning, trembling, and bloody hands on the steering wheel...squeezing down on it as he inhaled a deep breath through his nostrils, he pressed his foot against the gas pedal since he left the car running. The car engine roared softly; making the Impala vibrate as he drove the car down the road in utter silence.

Dean softly shushed baby Sam as he fussed more...lightly patting his chest with his small hand as he occasionally shot glances over at his father. He drove in silence; not saying a single word as his eyes never left the road—John just continued driving, not bothering to check on his boys, once.

Eventually Dean fell asleep as did Sam. John contemplated driving his car off the road—killing himself and his children...the thought of living a life without Mary seemed impossible. The reality of John having to raise two small children on his own was downright terrifying...but he knew he had to raise them. Take care of them. He knew Mary would've wanted that...she loved and adored Dean and Sam with every breath she took. She was a wonderful mother. John was afraid he wouldn't be able to be a good enough father to take care of his sons.

He drove for what felt like forever—the sun was beginning to rise; the blackened sky had faded to a deep, rich royal blue...eventually changing to a lighter and brighter blue shade with a slight tint of gold. John arrived to a new and unknown town—noticing several builds, houses, and other cars driving on the road.

John was thinking too much and he wanted to numb away the unbearable pain he was feeling and let out a soft chuckle as the corners of his lips curling into a small smirk—like his prayers were heard and answered when he noticed a gas station just up ahead.

Parking the Impala rather sloppily, he stepped out of the car for a moment—the slam of his car door awoke Dean as he roughly twitched in the backseat...almost waking up Sam as he twitched in his arms and let out a soft whine while stretching out his little arms and legs. John came out of the gas station several minutes later with a bottle of whiskey in his left hand as he made his way back over to the car; swinging the car door open, climbing inside of the drivers seat once more, slamming the door closed...Sam twitched beside Dean again, but remained asleep as Dean softly shushed him—his eyes never leaving John.

John sat silently in the drivers seat...staring out of the windshield, his left arm finally rose towards him—his hand gripping onto the bottle of alcohol, he didn't hesitate to removed the bottle cap with a slight struggled but succeeded, bringing the bottle of room temperature whiskey to his lips, John partook in the devils bitter nectar by consuming it; swallowing huge mouthfuls of them as it burned the back of his throat, he drank it like water and wanted the overthinking to stop. He wanted to numb his mind...he couldn't handle it and he wanted it all to stop. At least for a while...booze would help, he was certain.

Dean watched his dad drink half the bottle of whiskey before pulling the bottle away—letting out loud and violent coughs as he gagged several times, managing to hold it down...John then turned his head back to look over at his sons in the backseat. Sam slept peacefully next to Dean, who was wide awake and staring over at him...John stared back without saying a word. He looked away moments after looking into his young son's eyes, twisting the bottle cap back over the tip of the bottle before staring the car again, driving away from the gas station and down the road.

Dean couldn't fall back asleep...John didn't look back at them again and occasionally took more swigs off the whiskey bottle—eventually emptying it, he tossed the empty glass bottle over to the passenger side. Dean felt the Impala swerve several times, but John didn't stop driving...he just drove quietly, so quiet that it began to make the young boy feel anxious and unsteady.

Eventually John arrived at a motel, parked his car drunkly in the parking lot, and opened the car door leading to the backseats of the car—demanding Dean to get out with Sam, not even helping him out. He checked them into a room with one king sized bed...he told Dean to go to bed while he went out to pick up items that they needed. Dean stood small in front of his father while still holding his sleepy baby brother in his arms, staring directly into John's eyes without speaking.

"Now, Dean. Go to bed." He demanded in a harsh tone while pointing his finger over at the bed.

"...bed is too tall...I need help." Dean finally spoke without breaking eye contact with his dad.

John let out a soft sigh as he then lifted Dean up from the ground and made his way closer to the bed, sitting him down on it. Dean carefully laid Sam down on the soft mattress, making sure he was comfortable while checking on him.

"Here." John said as he grabbed the TV remote and tossed it over to Dean. Dean fell quiet as a mouse again as he continued gazing over at John...John stared back at his four year old son—he's never seen him so upset before. Ever.

"I'll be back...just heading out to get us some things. Stay here, watch TV or go to bed. And watch Sam." John demanded once more as he continued to look into his son's large, rounded, bright colored eyes. Without speaking another word, John turned his back on Dean and headed out of the hotel room.

Dean sniffled softly as tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks...he quickly wiped them away with his pajama sleeve before lying himself down against the soft and cool pillow against his face. Sam was still sleeping peacefully beside his brother, wrapped up in his baby blanket...Dean scooted himself closer and held him close. Eventually Dean drifted off to a deep and much needed slumber.


	2. Motel Room On A Rainy Day

“...Dean?” The young nine year old boy was awoken by Sam, who was now five years old. Dean ignored him for a brief moment just to catch a few more seconds of shuteye before Sam lightly poked his tiny, thin finger against Dean’s cheek—making him groan out softly in annoyance before pulling his blanket over his head.

“Dean, wake up...”

“Go back to sleep, Sammy. It’s too early to play.”

“I’m hungry...” Sam admitted, speaking in a soft and almost inaudible tone as he fumbled around with his long sleeved pajama sleeves. Dean let out a soft sigh as he was now feeling wide awake and pulled his blanket off while sitting himself up in his bed in the crummy, old hotel room they’ve been residing in for almost three months now—Dean was certain it’d be a matter of time before their dad moved them to another shady and gross looking motel room or an abandoned apartment to squat in.

“Alright Sammy, I’m up. C’mon—let’s see if we can find something for you to eat.” Dean smiled over at his little brother, playfully ruffling Sam’a dark, long, shaggy hair, making the five year old giggle softly as his cheeks flushed a soft blossom pink shade.

John wasn’t in the room with the boys—so that meant he was still at the bar or on one of his odd job ‘missions’ as he liked to use the phrase, often.

Dean never asked his father what it is he did for work or how he was able to come back with money for them to rent a room to sleep in and have food in their bellies. Most of the time John was always too drunk and grumpy to have a decent conversation with his sons about anything.

“Daddy didn’t come back yet...we don’t have anything to eat...” Sam explained as he felt the familiar hunger pains in the pit of his stomach; it softly rumbled, making him wince out softly as he placed his small hand against it.

“I’m sure we can find something until the meantime, Sammy. Trust me.” Dean assured him as they made their way over to the tiny kitchen area, hand in hand, hoping to find something to eat. Anything at this point.

“Go sit at the table and I’ll look for some food for you.”

“But I wanna help.” Sam pleaded with Dean as he squeezed his smaller hand down against Dean’s, looking up at him with his large, bright, hazel eyes.

“Okay, okay. You check the pantries while I search in the fridge.”

“Okay!” Sam smiled up at his older brother before throwing both arms around his small and thin waist; squeezing him once more before releasing his grip to search the food pantries.

Dean softly chuckled to himself as he lightly shook his head before grabbing the handle of the refrigerator door—swinging it open only to find half a gallon of milk, which was almost out. There was enough for Sam, though. 

“Found some cereal!” Sam exclaimed happily as he pulled out a still halfway full box of off brand and cheap cornflakes.

“Good job, Sammy. Now, will you please sit down while I serve you?”

“Can I watch my cartoons?”

“Of course, Sammy.” Dean smiled down at him, playfully ruffling his hair once more before lightly patting his shoulder. Sam paced over to small dining table to grab one of the chairs to drag it over towards the TV before turning on his morning cartoons.

Dean grabbed one of the clean bowls both he and Sam washed the night before while their dad drove off to wherever he was without telling them when he’d be back.

He opened the box of cornflakes; poured a fair amount into the bowl, not caring that they were close to running out and was completely unsure if their dad would return with groceries or not...all Dean cared about was feeding his brother.

After pouring the cornflakes into the bowl, Dean opened up the gallon of milk—pouring the rest of it into the bowl of cornflakes before adding a little spoonful of sugar to it.

“Here you go—breakfast is served.” Dean announced to Sam while handing him his bowl of cereal.

“Thank you. Where’s your bowl...?” Sam asked as he noticed Dean was empty handed.

“Don’t worry about me, buddy. I’ll be okay.”

“But you have to eat...”

“I’ve gone days without eating before, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t wanna eat if you won’t.”

“Sam—“

“I don’t want it.” Dean let out sigh of annoyance as he rolled his eyes. He loved Sam and they were pretty close, but sometimes Sam was just plain stubborn. Always looked out for Dean, just as much as Dean looked out for him.

“Sam, please...”

“You have to eat, too. We can share.”

“Sammy, I made this for you.”

“I want to share.” Dean let out another sigh, but this time in defeat. Sam wouldn’t eat unless Dean did—something he’s been doing since he was a baby...Dean had been taking care of him more than John ever did. 

“Fine...hold the bowl and let me grab the other chair. I’ll sit and watch cartoons with you.” Sam smiled up at Dean as he nodded his head in response before taking the bowl of cereal out of Dean’s hands.

“Want the last bite?” Dean asked with a mouthful of soggy cornflakes, a thin and visible stream of milk ran down his chin.

“No...it’s okay...” Sam hesitated answering while turning his head away from Dean.

“Here, have it.” Dean chuckled out softly as he handed the bowl to Sam. He wasn’t a fan of drinking the remaining milk with a few bits of cornflakes floating in it...but he knew Sam loved having every last bite.

“Thank you.” Sam smiled over at him before finishing their bowl of cereal while watching their cartoons, together.

It was a typical Saturday for the boys; Dean would serve Sam breakfast, they’d watch their cartoons together, then they’d clean up until everything was spotless...they’ve witness the temper of their father to do anything to avoid pissing him off.

“I’m bored...” Sam said as he was washing the last remaining load of dirty dishes while Dean swept the floors before mopping.

“Chores are almost done—who knows when dad’ll be back and you know how he gets if the place is dirty.” Sam whined under his breath while pouting; his bottom lip puckering out as he frowned to himself, still washing the dishes.

“I want to go to the park.” The five year old hinted, hoping Dean would say yes. Sometimes he’d take Sam to the park which wasn’t too far from the motel they were currently living. 

“We need to be home when dad comes back, he’ll be mad if we’re not here.” Dean overheard Sam whine softly a second time as he stopped sweeping the floor.

“Sammy—“

“Daddy is always mad, no matter what...I wanna go to the park. Please? At least for a little while?” Sam pleaded with his puppy dog, bright hazel eyes...Dean sighed out softly as he couldn’t say no to him. He didn’t want to let him down.

“Okay, fine. But can we at least finish our chores? Then we’ll go. Just for a little while though, okay?” Sam’s little face brightened up; smiling a wide and toothy smile as his cheeks were flushed bright rouge. 

“Deal!” He responded rather happily, practically jumping up and down in pure excitement. Dean smiled over at Sam—admiring how something as simple as going to the park brought so much joy to his little brother...Dean was starting to forget how to be a kid. He was starting to forget how to find joy in the little things. But he was at least grateful that Sam still had that hopeful spirit.

After the boys finished their chores, they changed out of their pajamas and dressed in the same, old clothes they wore often. Dean made sure Sam had his shoes tied, wore his thick coat—it was cold outside and the sky looked rather gloomy; the thick, fluffy grey clouds almost looked black and the scent of rain lingered in the air...it was definitely going to pour, later.

They walked to the park together; Dean held Sam’s smaller hand in his as they talked about whatever came to mind during their walk to the park...they occasionally made each other laugh. Once Sam saw the familiar swing set and empty seats, he didn’t hesitate to let go of Dean’s hand—jolting his way over towards the swings; claiming one as he sat himself down in it, impatiently waiting for Dean to come and help push him.

“Why do you always make me push you?” Dean asked as he finally caught up to Sam, going behind him—preparing to push him on the swing.

“You make me go high; I can almost touch the sky when you push me.”

“You’re not a baby anymore, you’ve got to learn to swing yourself.”

“I’m not a baby...” Sam mumbled under his breath as he clutched onto the old, rusted chains that held and supported the swing with both hands.

Dean grabbed a hold of Sam’s hands with his as he was backing himself up, pulling his little brother back on the swing—making Sam giggle softly as he excitedly kicked his small, dangling legs around...even though he was getting big, Dean didn’t mind still pushing him. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed babying his brother.

“Higher!” Sam exclaimed once Dean finally pushed him as high as he could. 

“I just started pushing you, be patient.”

“Higher Dean, higher!” Sam repeated himself while being pushed. Dean rolled his eyes but grinned to himself as he shook his head, proceeding to do as his brother demanded and began to push him, harder and higher up in the air.

After Dean pushed Sam on the swing set for a while, they played together on the jungle gym; going down the slides, climbing the monkey bars—dangling from them...they chased one another around, a few rounds of tag until both boys were out of breath and had to take a break to catch their breaths.

“...I’m...tired...” Dean panted in between breaths, unzipping his jacket to let the cool air blow against him.

“...you’re...old...” Sam replied, pointing his finger over at Dean while he was trying to hide his smile but failed.

“I’m only older than you by four years, Sammy.” Dean chuckled softly while returning a smile at his younger brother before feeling a single drop of rain fall from the dark grey sky—the strong scent of rain lingered in the air.

Sam lifted his head up to look up at the sky only to feel a raindrop fall onto the tip of his nose—making his face scrunch up a little as he let out a soft giggle as more droplets of rain began to fall from up above...the rain had arrived.

Dean held onto Sam’s smaller hand in his as he paced them both back to their motel room in the pouring rain. Thunder occasionally roared from up above—making the ground below the two young boy’s feet rumble, scaring Sam as he squeezed onto Dean’s hand before moving himself close against him as they made their way back home...wherever that was, really.

When they arrived back at the motel...Dean froze for a second after noticing his dad’s Chevy Impala parked in his reserved parking spot outside their motel room. Not wanting to waste another second and just wanting to get over whatever John had waiting for both boys, Dean took a deep breath in; holding it as his heart thumped away rapidly inside of his chest as he slowly walked over towards the motel room door, still holding onto his little brother’s hand.

Before Dean made it over to the door, both boys noticed their father peeking through the curtain—seeing them and frowning through the slightly dirty glass window from inside their motel room...John immediate shut the curtain closed before swinging the door open. He held a bottle of whisky already halfway empty in one hand while his other hand held onto the doorknob.

“Both of you—get yer asses inside, now.” John slurred firmly. His eyes were bloodshot red, the dark and visible bags underneath them almost looked black...he looked clammy and his forehead was dampened with his own sweat as his shaggy, dark, and messy bangs stuck onto his sweaty skin.

Dean kept his head down low as he and Sam made their way inside the motel room. John slammed the door shut, making both boys jump as Dean immediately undressed Sam out of his wet jacket; helping him with his shoes before helping him change into dry and warm clean clothes.

“Stop babying him—“ John said as he grabbed Dean by his soaking wet jacket collar—roughly yanking on it and pulling the light nine year old back and away from Sam.

“I’m just helping him out of his wet clothes—“

“He isn’t a fucking baby anymore—he can do it himself. And takeoff your damn shoes...” John mumbled as he released his grip from Dean before taking another long swing off his whisky bottle. Sam remained silent as he stood there, completely frozen as he held his head down—staring at his own two feet.

“It’s okay, Sammy. Go get some warm and dry clothes...I’ll wash our wet and muddy clothes, okay?” Dean tried to comfort Sam, knowing John made him feel anxious and scared. Sam slowly nodded his head in response, lifting up his head to look his older brother in his eyes before pacing his way over to his and Dean’s side of the motel room to find a pair of dry clothes to change into as Dean proceeded to change out of his wet clothes.

John plopped down on his own queen sized bed, still holding his bottle of whisky with one hand—sipping more off of it, almost complete empty now before slamming the glass bottle down against the small nightstand by the bed. John shortly passed out afterwards, leaving both of his sons feeling relieved. 

After Dean and Sam were changed into a clean, warm, and dry pair of clothes—Dean washed their muddy clothes while Sam drew and colored on his and Dean’s bed that they shared together. Right now things were quiet...thanks to John drinking himself to sleep, it meant a little more peace before he awoken—halfway sober and grumpy. Dean expected it, but hoped that for just once his alcoholic father would remain dead asleep for the rest of the day so he could spend quality time with his own kid brother, like any normal kid would do. Normal was definitely not a word used to describe the lives of Dean and Sam Winchester. 

Not in the slightest.


End file.
